


Support System

by Flufflybunnypants



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nursey quoting poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flufflybunnypants/pseuds/Flufflybunnypants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dex gets bad news and Nursey tries to be a helpful boyfriend. There's a lil crying, a lil kissing, and a lil cuddling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Support System

He hears it before he steps into the room, and the ragged sound is almost enough to make him turn tail. This thing between them is so fragile and new, he fears that when he opens that door, it will pop like a soap bubble. But open it he does, braced for the very worst.

Dex muffles another heaving sob in his palm, looking up at Nursey through a thick lens of tears. It mutes the world, warps it and washes it away, but still he clearly sees Nursey hesitate in the doorway. It’s only a flash and then Nursey’ at his side, cupping his face and asking him desperately, “What’s wrong?”

“My mom--” his breath hitches and he can’t eke out another word. He wipes roughly at his streaming eyes, jerking his head out of Nursey’s gentle hands. “She’s sick. It’s--it’s bad they think.”

“Oh,” escapes Nursey’s mouth like a sigh. He wraps an arm around Dex and pulls him in, holding him tight until Dex stops shaking with the force of his sobs. He wants to ask a million more questions, but he knows this is about the limit of openness and trust that Dex can handle right now. Dex cries himself dry, hiccuping wetly against Nursey’s shoulder.

When he pulls back, Nursey can see him locking it all down. “I’ve gotta-- um thanks, uh, I have to go.” He stands up, pocketing his phone with trembling hands and walks out of the room. Nursey gets a chill running down his spine and he can’t even tell if its fear about Dex or the fuckin’ ghosts(the attic is so goddamn haunted it barely balances out how great it is to live in the Haus).

For the next few weeks, Dex is barely there, physically and mentally. He doesn’t make eye contact when he is in the house and Nursey is afraid to reach out and touch him. Nursey only figures out Dex has a night job when he see him come in one morning in a uniform. During the day he’s either in class, at practice, or working in the student IT building. Whatever was blossoming between them has died a swift and brutal death.

He tries to help unobtrusively, sticking protein bars in Dex’s backpack and making sure the team doesn’t bug him. But Dex is fucking fading and it’s kinda terrifying.

Braver in the early morning hours, Nursey reaches out an arm as Dex gets in and pulls him down into his bed. It’s a sign of how exhausted Dex is that he doesn’t even fight it. Dex lies on his back, eyes weary as he traces the slats of the bunkbed above them. 

Nursey keeps a hand on Dex’s chest, feeling the Samwell logo on his sweatshirt shift with Dex’s breathing. “What can I do to help?”

“What?”

“What can I do to help, Will? Anything.”

“You can’t do anything.” Dex is curt. “Unless you’ve found the cure for leukemia, or a way to make me win the lottery, you can’t help. Mom’s still gonna be sick and I’m gonna keep on working my ass off to help Dad out. This is just what fucking happens when you’re not rich enough to make it through the American healthcare system.”

“I’m not--I know I can’t fix your mom. I wish I could.” He sounds so painfully sincere that Dex feels his heart skip a beat. “But there has to be something. I don’t have class at the same time as you so I could take notes for you? Or if you want the bottom bunk so you don’t have to climb into bed when you get home late, we could switch. Or I could help you job hunt so you could use your genius brain in a job that will help your resume instead of fucking up your sleep schedule. You could totally find a paid internship that pays as much as the student security guard program!”

“You’ve really thought about this, huh?” Dex’s voice betrays him with the slightest tremor. “Why’re you being so nice?”

“Because you’re my teammate.”

“Nah, there’s a whole team who hasn’t even noticed me mainlining coffee. Try again.”

“Because you don’t deserve this shit?”

“Better, but still not right, I don’t think.” He turns to face Nursey and his eyes glitter in the low light. He smells like sweat and Old Spice and a hint of that godawful cinnamon gum he insists on chewing. 

In a breathy whisper, Nursey confesses, “Because I like you. A lot. It makes me upset when you wander around like you’re three steps from joining the other ghosts in this attic.”

Dex’s eyes are damp as he teases, “You think you’re such a special snowflake that I’d spend my afterlife pinching your butt?

“It’s a pretty great butt.”

“Yeah,” Dex smiles, albeit wanly, “it is.” He moves slowly, telegraphing his intentions and catches Nursey’s mouth in a soft kiss. 

Nursey smiles like Dex just gave him the moon. “C’mere.” He tugs on the blanket to try and get it out from under Dex. Dex joins him under the comforter, oddly soothed by the line of heat next to him. Nursey nuzzles at his cheek and then kisses him again, the barest hint of dawn brightening the room into warm shades of grey.

“Can I stay?” Dex doesn’t remember feeling this hopeful, not since--not since Mom got sick.

“You can’t leave,” Nursey insists, kissing him again. Nursey slides a leg over him and traces the line of his jaw with a cool fingertip. They’re all tangled together, kissing sleepily in this nascent world they’ve created for themselves. 

Nursey leans in close, lips brushing Dex’s as he whispers, “I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing.” It is this odd tenderness that breaks him, he decides later. Those plagiarized words that bind him here, safe in these arms that seem loathe to loosen their grip. 

And though he is touched by those words, he cannot hold back an embarrassingly large yawn. Nursey does laugh at him, but quietly and fondly. It’s tolerable, more than tolerable when he is manhandled into being the little spoon. He falls asleep to Nursey whispering against the base of his neck, “I like your body.  I like what it does, I like its hows. I like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smoothness and which I will again and again and again kiss.”

Six hours later he wakes up to and empty bed and a note that reads, “ **You were asleep so**   **I went to CS 119, don’t worry,** ” and is signed _**< 3 D**_. 

Six months later, Derek is there by his side when his mom is officially declared to be in remission.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. I don't know why but e.e. cummings just seems like Nursey's kind of poetry.  
> 2\. Picture Dex, large hockey boy, in a dark security guard uniform. Picture it. Isn't that nice?  
> 3\. Picture Nursey sneaking out of his own bed, like the giant, clumsy lug he is, trying so hard not to wake Dex up.
> 
> As always, let me know if there are any egregious grammatical errors, as this was written quite late at night.


End file.
